Just like the written word or a photograph, my blog only reveals a partial truth.

For example, I can show you this photograph of my stolen date out with Jellybean saturday morning and you might think “what a sweet relationship they have”, but today you would see the same daughter and I both with tears in our eyes as we worked through a tough start to our morning.

I could show you this photo of a craft we did today and you might think “they’re so artsy and fun, I want to do school at their house” but it would also mask that I woke up this morning wishing hard that I could stay curled up in the covers and call in my sick day(for the next month). And that this project, though it will make a fun sign, was a desperate attempt to continue on with school-like activities today without trying to balance teaching all of the children separately(while keeping Sparkles happy).

And when I show you this priceless picture of Sparkles, you might turn to your friend and say “what a beautiful family they have! Aren’t they blessed?” And your friend would nod in agreement as would I if I were sitting with you, because what could be more true? But interlocked with that truth is how incredibly torn I’ve felt every day by my growing, changing family. I spend what I consider way too much time wishing that Sparkles was still the sleepy baby on my chest rather than the one exploring our carpet with her mouth. She wants to be anywhere but in my lap, and I think “really, are we already to that point?”. I don’t mean that light-hearted, because I have this desire to fight time, even though I know I would lose. I can’t look at one of my kids and feel simply glad they’re right where they are in life. Each day passes with the conviction that I need to accept the seasons of my life(and my children’s).

Here’s the final picture for the day. This tree, which last week was radiant with it’s warm, orange cloak, is now entering the bleaker season of the year. If this was the only picture I ever saw of this tree, I would be missing a greater truth. It’s hopeful green buds, the laughter of children playing around it in the summer heat, and then snow-covered in solitude, all of these together make up the full life of this tree. This picture doesn’t make the other seasons any less true.

And with my life, as I struggle to see the greater truth, look with me at all sides. This side when laughing teeters on the edge of crying, hearts bloom and then darken, time selfishly moves on, and expectations grow weighty. I’m claiming that this is not the only truth and in the end, will make the other side all the more illuminated.